


Holding Water With Weighted Wings

by HarmonizingSunsets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But mostly fluff, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Long Shot, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Alternating, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, They're In Love Your Honor, because i can't help myself, communication is key, everyone ships it, just like the quiz lol, this turned out longer than i intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonizingSunsets/pseuds/HarmonizingSunsets
Summary: Everything about his heaven is exactly what he would have designed for himself.That’s why Dean knows that only one person could have designed it all for him.That one person is the same son of a bitch Dean can’t manage to reach, despite every prayer and every thought he’s aimed towards the guy over the past week.…A post-finale fic where Cas and Dean are both in heaven and don’t know what to do about it, everyone’s rooting for them, and there’s a deathday party somewhere along the way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Holding Water With Weighted Wings

**Author's Note:**

> So…this happened. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the “What about Destiel makes you go feral” quiz. I never thought so many people would take it and enjoy it, lol. So, I gained a little courage and decided actually to post one of those fics. You’ll notice some familiar parts from the quiz featured in it. 
> 
> This is fluffy and self-indulgent, but after that heartbreaking finale, writing this helped me feel better. There are many familiar faces that were missing, and an ending for these two characters that I hope is satisfying. 
> 
> Bless you, if you make it all the way through this mess. I’m gifting you a Leviathan Blossom if you do. Sorry if it’s a little smushed. :) 
> 
> P.S. The title is inspired by a lyric in the song “Cassiopeia” by Anju.

When Cas pictured God’s office, he never thought it would look like this. 

There are a few lounge chairs, a vending machine filled with an infinite supply of candy, and a jukebox that plays exclusively pop music. Cas smiles at it, knowing its existence would horrify Dean. 

While Cas was proud of Jack, he did have a sense of worry about the situation. After all, Jack was only three. Didn’t he deserve a childhood? He’s been thrown into one fight after another since his birth, feeling more pain in his few years than any person should feel in an entire lifetime. And now, he was responsible for the whole universe. It didn’t seem fair. 

But then again, life is rarely ever fair. It certainly hadn’t been for him or Dean. 

Cas frowns as his thoughts turn to the eldest Winchester, as they often do. He shakes his head, trying to banish the last memory he has of Dean from his mind. 

While Cas doesn’t regret anything, thinking about that moment is like opening back up an old wound. The pain is fresh, but the ache that occurred during the wound's first creation lingers like a ghost.

Cas tries refocusing on the discussion at hand. When he does, he realizes that Jack is no longer talking. He’s frowning, looking off into the distance. Cas guesses that Jack’s trying to focus on one image out of the millions he sees at once. 

“What is it?” Cas asks. 

Jack turns his head, looking at Cas solemnly. 

“He’s here.” 

Cas stands, feeling suddenly unable to remain motionless on the chair. “Who’s here?”

Jack smiles gently. “You know who.”

Cas’s heart plummets. 

He feels like he’s falling to Earth for a second time, his wings getting torn to shreds as he sinks through the air. 

“No—he…it can’t be,” Cas stutters, stumbling back a few steps. “It’s only been a few months.”

“They were fighting vamps, and he got pushed onto a piece of rebar,” Jack says. Cas opens his mouth, but Jack shakes his head, already knowing the question he will ask. “Sam’s not going to bring him back, either.”

“No,” Cas shakes his head, beginning to pacing. “He was supposed to live. After everything, he can’t have just died.”

Jack forces Cas to stop moving, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Castiel, Dean is at peace. He was trying to move on down on Earth, but he couldn’t find true peace down there. Not really.” 

“But he was coping,” Cas insists, thinking back to everything Jack told him over the past few months. He said that Dean was applying for a job outside hunting, something that he would never have done before. “He was moving on with his life.” 

“Why do you think that is?” 

The question catches Cas off guard. He tries to think of an answer but comes up with nothing. 

“I don’t know.”

Jack smiles encouragingly. “Yes, you do.”

He tilts his head at Jack in confusion, causing Jack to laughs lightly.

Cas feels like there’s a joke he’s not in on, which is becoming a running theme. Jack has so much knowledge with his new cosmic abilities that Cas will never be able to comprehend. 

“Castiel, your confession changed him,” Jack answers as if it’s one of the most well-known facts in the universe. “He wanted to try and live happily because he didn't want your sacrifice to be in vain. That’s why he was doing better, because of you.”

Jack’s words are too overwhelming to wrap his head around, creating knots in his mind. But when he eventually unravels the string, a surge of anger goes through him. 

“So, when he’s doing better, he dies?” 

He frowns at Cas, looking more like the Jack he knows—a little bit lost and a little too much heart to be contained in his body. 

“It’s not fair,” Cas adds bitterly. “After everything he did for the world, he should live a life that he wants.”

“But don’t you see, Cas? Dean can finally do that in heaven. There are no monsters for him to feel guilty about not hunting, no reminders of what he’s lost. He gets to spend the way he wants to. Not on John’s terms, not on Sam’s, _his_.”

Cas pauses, considering this. He’d built Dean's heaven already, but he hadn’t expected him this soon. But maybe, early arrival wasn’t so bad. 

Dean could finally be free in heaven, really free. To be with the people he cares for without spending every ounce of his being trying to protect them. 

While it’s not the future he would’ve planned for Dean, it could be a good one. 

“What’s he doing?” Cas asks.

“He just talked to Bobby, now he’s going out for a drive, on the roads you paved for his return. He’s happy.”

Cas nods as they planned for him to see Bobby and the Impala when the time came for him to arrive in heaven. 

“When he stops the car, he’ll be reunited with Sam, as if only hours had passed instead of fifty years.” Jack turns to Cas, and there's a hopeful glint in his eyes. “But you could fly over and make him take a detour.” 

Cas tries to consider the suggestion, but he can't imagine seeing Dean again. He can only picture how Dean looked during his last moments with him. 

He remembers the way Dean’s eyes were filled with such confusion, open wide with panic as Cas spoke about the deal he made. 

Cas also remembers how still Dean's body became when he realized that Cas was moving the minute hand on a clock backward. Not to give them both more time, but to give it to Dean alone. 

He remembers Dean’s shoulder’s tensing as Cas began describing all of Dean's self-doubts. He flinched as if Cas was cutting into his skin with each word, exposing every dark thing Dean hid underneath his skin. 

Cas remembers how Dean started to take measured breaths as he went on and on about how much Dean had changed him. It was like inhaling and exhaling were no longer an autopilot capability, becoming secondary to prioritize hearing every word Cas spoke. 

Cas vividly remembers Dean’s eyes brimming with tears and with an emotion neither of them had time to decipher after Cas told him that he loved him. 

He especially recalls the shock on Dean’s face after he pushed him onto the floor. Dean looked up at Cas with horror as the Empty devoured him. 

Cas closes his eyes, trying to visualize what Dean’s expression would be if he saw him in heaven right now. But he can’t let his mind go there. He’s terrified that his face would display anger, disgust, or worst of all—pity. 

“No,” Cas finally answers Jack, forcing his eyes open. “He should have time to adjust. He doesn’t want to see me yet.”

“Castiel, he’s wanted to see you every moment since you went to the Empty.” 

Cas gives him a questioning look. 

“I’m God,” Jack shrugs. “I know a few things.”

Cas sighs. “I just never thought when I made that sacrifice, I’d face the consequences—or him again.”

Jack narrows his eyes. “Is this about him not being ready or you?” 

“You’re God, don’t you know?”

“Yeah, but I’ve found that people like to be asked anyway,” Jack replies, reaching out and putting a comforting hand on Cas’s arm. “What’s holding you back?”

It only takes a few seconds of considering Jack’s question for his mind to go back to that room again. 

There’s the metallic smell of his blood dripping from his cut hand. The steady sound of pounding on the door creates a harrowing rhythm, reminding them of the imminent threat that looms outside the room. All the chaos of the world around them blurs, leaving Dean in pure focus. 

He hears Dean’s words loud and clear as he puts himself back at the scene, the same sentence echoing over and over his mind. 

_“Don’t do this, Cas.”_

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Jack says abruptly, bringing Cas back to reality and away from that moment which happened all those months—or he guesses now, years, ago. 

Cas raises his head, meeting Jack’s smile filled with an un-condescending kind of pity. 

“Go see him, Castiel, when you’re ready to.”

Cas nods, and Jack leads them towards their chairs. They sit down, getting back to the business they left off on before the interruption of Dean’s entrance into heaven. 

But Cas can't stop thinking about the emotion in Dean’s eyes that he couldn’t place at the time. He wonders if it’s still there or if the light has blown out. 

Or, Cas thinks, perhaps Dean’s realized that emotion was misplaced, finding something better to aim that look at than himself. 

* * *

Dean sits on his front porch with a beer in his hands. Despite the weather, the drink doesn’t warm. Droplets of condensation still fester on the bottle. He supposes it’s a perk of the whole heaven thing—that everything here is just as it should be.   
  
He starts to pick at the wrapper on the bottle, unable to make his fingers stay still. There’s a restlessness about him that he can’t seem to shake. It’s been there ever since he watched Cas get covered in that black goo. 

He had felt an immense weight fall onto his shoulders as he sat on that floor alone. That weight had stayed when he eventually gathered the strength to stand, meeting up with Sam and Jack. It also persisted in the few months he spent on earth after defeating Chuck. While he forced a smile onto his face, anyone who looked at him closely could see the tenseness to his posture and the deep bags underneath his eyes formed by sleepless nights.   
  
Dean couldn’t slip up for a second. He had to save face, keeping going on hunts, and pretend like everything was fine. Because if his mind lingered too long on that gaping hole that Cas’s death left inside him, he was afraid it would swallow him whole.   
  
Dean’s shaken out of his thoughts as he hears footsteps approaching his front porch. He recognizes the sound of the person’s tread immediately and raises his head with a smile.   
  
“Hey Sammy, want a beer?”   
  
“No, I had some at the Roadhouse,” Sam says. He puckers his lips, looking sick. “Word to the wise, don’t take up Jo on a drinking contest.”   
  
“I would never even consider that,” Dean chuckles. “I ain’t about to die again.”   
  
A silence then settles between them. Dean listens to the sound of the wind as it rustles the trees. But Sam’s annoyingly clearing his throat, making it hard to focus.   
  
“Just say what you want to say,” Dean says to him curtly, taking another sip of his drink.   
  
Sam fidgets on his chair, turning towards Dean hesitantly. “Do you want to talk about it?”   
  
“Talk about what?”   
  
Sam gives him that bitch face, and Dean’s impressed it hasn’t lost its magnitude after all the years Sam lived on earth.   
  
Dean sighs, looking away from Sam and staring out at the lake near his house.   
  
Yeah, you heard that right. He has his own house.   
  
The lake house isn’t big and grandiose enough to make him feel uncomfortable. But it’s also not too small to make him feel cramped or remind him of one of those musty motel rooms.   
  
Dean can go out fishing any time he wants. He often sits on the dock and feels the sun beading down on his skin. Or he can drive around the endless roads that exist in this heaven, playing a good mixtape while being lulled by the sound of Baby’s engine. 

When he’s feeling social, he can even head to the Roadhouse. It’s within a few minutes of his place, and he can have a drink with Ellen or Jo or any of the family he’s made along the way.   
  
Everything about his heaven is exactly what he would have designed for himself.   
  
That’s why Dean knows that only one person could have designed it all for him.   
  
That one person is the same son of a bitch Dean can’t manage to reach, despite every prayer and every thought he’s aimed towards the guy over the past week.   
  
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Dean mutters to Sam.   
  
“I want you to tell me what all happened.”   
  
“I already told you.”   
  
“Not everything,” Sam insists. “I know there’s more.”   
  
Dean grounds his jaw, his fingers digging against the wrapper of his beer, which is in shreds at this point.

He hears Sam sigh as he settles back into his chair. “I miss Cas too, you know.”   
  
Dean flinches. Hearing his name hurts. It’s as if Billy is back, twisting at his heart in his chest.   
  
But this time, Cas isn’t there for him to lean against.   
  
“I know you miss him,” Dean swallows thickly, trying to force down the lump in his throat. He slowly turns, meeting Sam’s eyes hesitantly. “But... it’s different.”   
  
“Different?”   
  
Dean nods.   
  
Sam’s harsh expression wavers, melting into understanding.   
  
“Oh.”   
  
Dean sets down his beer on the table beside him. “Yeah,” he laughs gruffly. “Oh.”   
  
There are a few beats of silence before he starts to hear choked laughter. Dean whips his head towards Sam, who’s covering a palm over his mouth, his chest shaking.   
  
“What’s so funny?”   
  
“Nothing, nothing,” Sam says, biting back a smile. “It’s just, out of all the times I imagined of this conversation happening, I never pictured it going down when we’re both dead.”   
  
Dean rolls his eyes but feels a wave of relief, as talking about this is with Sam is easier than he ever imagined. Maybe that’s because the things they struggled to confess on earth are easier to say here in heaven. Dean figures that’s Jack’s doing. Living with two emotionally stunted humans probably made him want to help people speak more freely in heaven.   
  
But maybe it’s not some magical truth spell or inter-dimensional side-effect. Maybe it’s just that Dean’s changed. He knows now that it’s better, to tell the truth instead of being afraid of what the truth will bring.   
  
When you’re about to die, all the things you left unsaid come readily to your mind, as they do when your head hits your pillow at the end of the day. But while you’re struggling for breath, you don’t have another morning to say what you want to say. Those words die with you and turn as cold as your body.   
  
When Dean closed his eyes and took his last breath, he was standing in heaven without the ache in his back. But those unsaid words didn’t vanish like the wound from the rebar. Instead, it was like heaven re-lit the flame, making the words burn even more brightly than before.   
  
Sam shifts, facing Dean with a stronger look of determination on his face.   
  
“Dean, what happened?”   
  
“Cas summoned the Empty by telling me he loved me,” Dean says, and there’s that twist of his heart again. His hand instinctually goes to grip his shoulder, even though there’s no hand bracing him or no longer print left behind there. He winces at the weight of the absence, staring back out at the lake. “The Empty said it would take him when he finally let himself be happy. I guess telling me that was all that it took.”   
  
Sam takes in a shaky breath, processing this information.   
  
“I just let him die right in front of me, Sammy,” Dean says, his hands beginning to shake on his armrest. “I—I never said…I never told him.”   
  
“Cas is here, somewhere,” Sam says, his lips forming a hopeful smile that Dean cannot echo. “You can tell him.” 

Dean looks at Sam through wet eyes. “What if I already missed my chance?”   
  
Sam opens his mouth to say something, but his words get cut off by the sound of wings ruffling.   
  
Dean’s stomach lurches, and his head abruptly turns to find the cause of the noise.   
  
When he sees who it is, there’s only a brief sense of disappointment before it’s replaced with pure joy.   
  
“Jack,” Dean says, smiling in disbelief.   
  
Jack raises his hand and holds it in the air like the dork he is. “Hello.”   
  
Sam, with his damn long legs, gets there first, wrapping his arms around him. “We missed you.”   
  
“Why? I told you, I will always be with you.”   
  
“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Dean says, pulling Jack in for a hug of his own once Sam lets go of him. “It’s good to see you, buddy.”   
  
“It’s good to see you both as well. Even though I know that it means your time ended on earth. I’m happy that you both can have some long-awaited peace here.”   
  
“Jack, what you’ve done for us, what you’ve done for humanity, rebuilding heaven... you’ve done good,” Dean tells him.   
  
Sam beams in agreement. “We’re so proud of you.”   
  
Jack, the ruler of heaven, actually looks bashful.   
  
“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you guys.”   
  
They begin to chat a little about how Jack created the new heaven and how things work around here. It’s stuff Dean’s mostly already gathered himself. Like you can dream of genie anything you want. You just have to think about it, and it’ll show up.   
  
Well, that rule seems to have limits to prevent from inflicting harm on others or from summoning specific angels, but other than that, it’s pretty damn accurate.   
  
Dean clears his throat after a few minutes. It’s not because Dean finally remembers to ask. The question has always been there, ever since Bobby mentioned Cas’s name. But he’s held back on asking because he’s afraid of the answer Jack will give.   
  
He fears that Jack will tell him that he’ll have to go his whole eternity without it—without him.   
  
“Uh Jack, I got to ask you something.”   
  
Before Dean can continue, Jack replies, “He’s here.”   
  
Dean blinks in surprise. “How did you—.”   
  
Jack raises an eyebrow in amusement, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Right, the omnipotent thing, that’s not going to get annoying at all.”   
  
“I’m sorry. The truth is, I’ve been waiting to talk to you about Cas,” Jack admits. “I can feel your longing. You’re happy, but you’re also in pain. For this to be the heaven that you deserve, you shouldn’t be hurting.”   
  
“Where is he?” Sam cuts in eagerly. “I mean, I figure he’s probably busy helping you run heaven, but he hasn’t shown up to see us.”   
  
“I believe he’s trying to give you space,” Jack says to them, but he looks at Dean directly while he says it.   
  
“To hell with space,” Dean says gruffly. “I haven’t seen him since—ever since it happened.”   
  
Sam and Cas both look at him, a sadness overtaking their expression. But Dean doesn’t want their pity. His shoulders slump, and he feels that weight that’s been crushing him ever since Cas got taken to the Empty get bigger.   
  
“You will see him eventually. I saved him because he’s my father and because I owe him everything, but also because he’s part of your family.” Jack looks around him at the beautiful space his powers created. But instead of beaming at it with pride, there’s a flicker of dissatisfaction in his expression. “It’s not your heaven without him, though, is it?”   
  
“No,” Dean answers honestly. "No, it's not."  
  
Dean doesn’t want to waste what little time he has left with Jack before he has to go and do his godly duties. So, Dean steps forward, holding Jack’s shoulder firmly.   
  
“Thank you for everything. Especially for saving him when I couldn’t.”   
  
Jack’s eyes hold nothing but love, and he looks at Dean like he always wished his father would look at him.   
  
Which is pretty weird, considering Jack is kind of their son.   
  
But it’s also kind of nice.   
  
Jack leans in a little towards Dean and whispers, “I think you’ve saved him in more ways than you realize.”   
  
Dean goes still, his mouth parting in surprise.   
  
But before Dean can reply or ask anything more, he hears the sound rustling wings again, and Jack’s gone. 

* * *

Cas is in the home office, which now looks less like a lifeless office building and more like one of those hipster companies with napping pods and cereal stations.   
  
Angels don’t need to nap or eat cereal, but Jack says the office shouldn't only be a place where business gets done. It’s also a home base for the angels. They can gather here and work as a team, developing ways to serve humanity in heaven and Earth.   
  
It’s very strange having angels who once regarded him as an enemy come to him for instructions. Jack put him in charge once he rescued him from the Empty. While Cas tried dissuading him of the idea, Jack had put his foot down. He reasoned that Cas was the only angel who really understood what it meant to love humans, and therefore, could make the angels understand how to as well. It took a bit of time, but the angels who were left came around, especially when they saw the results he and Jack brought to heaven.   
  
But they couldn’t keep the lights on in heaven without more angels, so Jack started creating new angels with Cas’s assistance. Those angels are more readily accepting of their new mission. They know nothing but a God who’s present, believe in free will, and view Cas’s past actions on Earth with admiration.   
  
Their praise makes Cas feel uncomfortable if he’s honest. He devastated heaven and made so many mistakes on earth. He doesn’t deserve their good opinion.   
  
But still, he’s happy with the work he’s doing and who he’s doing it with. But besides Jack, he misses the sense of having close brethren by his side.   
  
He currently sits alone in the office’s miracles department (which is fashioned as a soft pretzel stand, as Jack considers them a miracle of their own) when he sees a familiar figure in the distance.   
  
A figure who should be dead.   
  
“Samandriel?” Cas voices.   
  
Samandriel walks towards him, a broad smile on his face. “Hello, Castiel.”   
  
“It’s so good to see you,” Cas takes a step forward instinctually but flinches back a step. “But probably not too good to see me…Samandriel, I’m so sorry.”   
  
“Naomi was controlling you. I hold no qualms against you,” Samandriel assures. When he sees Cas’s confusion, he adds, “Jack filled me in on a lot of stuff. Well, filled us in, more accurately.”   
  
“Us?”   
  
“Hey, Cassie.”   
  
Cas turns, seeing the cocky smirk of Balthazar greeting him.   
  
But then he sees images of stabbing Balthazar in the back, metaphorically and literally, and begins to feel nauseous.   
  
“Balthazar, about what happened, I’m so—.”   
  
“Don’t say it mate, you were all high on souls at the time,” Balthazar interrupts casually. “I would have done the same, probably worse.”   
  
Cas shakes his head. “That doesn’t excuse my actions.”   
  
“Castiel, from what we’ve heard about what you did on Earth and what we’ve seen in heaven, you’ve done more than enough to amend for any of your sins,” Samandriel says. “Stop apologizing.”   
  
Castiel nods, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection that he doesn’t deserve but can’t help but feel grateful to receive.   
  
“So, are you both going back to earth?” Castiel asks, changing the subject to a lighter topic.   
  
“Actually, I think I’ll stick around here,” Balthazar answers, taking a pretzel from the display case. His coat sways a little as he moves. There’s no wind, so he’s probably making it do it himself, for the pure dramatics of it. “The new angels you’ve created need to be whipped into shape.”   
  
Samandriel steps towards Cas. “I also would be happy to help in any way that I can.”   
  
“Thank you,” Cas says, beaming. “I’d like that.”   
  
“Now that that’s done with,” Balthazar starts to say, and Cas prepares himself when he notices there’s a dangerous glint in his brother’s eyes. “I heard the man in the leather jacket who’s in love with you is looking for you.”   
  
Cas sighs. “Did Jack tell you to say that?”   
  
“He didn’t have to tell us. I talked to Dean on earth once,” Samandriel says. “I could tell that he loves you deeply.”   
  
“Not in the way I—never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Castiel says, wincing. “I think his heaven is fine without my interference.”   
  
“You mean the heaven you designed specifically because of him,” Balthazar corrects dryly. “Way to be obvious, Cassie.”   
  
Cas crosses his arms. “I did it for all humanity.”   
  
“Which you only care about because you care about him.”   
  
He can’t deny that, so he doesn’t. Instead, Cas remains silent.   
  
But silence is starting to be a dangerous thing. When all is quiet, Cas feels a sting of longing. Except it’s different from his own—it’s a longing which is projected onto him. It’s paired with the sound of Dean’s voice, which is reaching out to him in prayer.   
  
The prayers are getting harder and harder to ignore. They don’t fade over time like he expected them to. Instead, they’re more of a constant hum that sits in the corner of his mind, begging him to listen.   
  
“We just want you to be happy,” Samandriel tells him, interrupting Cas from his thoughts.   
  
“Yeah,” Balthazar nods. “You’re our brother, so even though you could do much better than that bowlegged man in flannel—.”   
  
“You deserve to have peace here too,” Samandriel says, cutting Balthazar off with an annoyed look. He turns more sympathetic as he looks back at Cas. “I have a feeling you can’t have that without him.”   
  
Cas changes the topic towards the new angels, not knowing what else to say on the subject of Dean.   
  
But as they talk, the gentle hum persists, buzzing against his skull. It makes Cas wonder if peace is something that’s even in the cards for himself. 

* * *

“You didn’t.”   
  
“I did.”   
  
Dean sets down his glass, leaning over the table. “Charlie, you’re telling me that you actually found a clan of wear wolves and a nest of vamps living and hunting people together?”   
  
“Yep,” Charlie answers with a grin. “Turns out Stephanie Meyer was wrong. Some do get along.”   
  
“Well, until you killed them.”   
  
She winces. “Yeah, until then.”   
  
They’re at a pizza place in town called “Little Slice of Heaven” that serves you any kind of pizza you want. Dean went for just a normal pepperoni, but it ended up tasting like the one he ate at a great pizza parlor in Colorado that he could never manage to find again.   
  
Charlie’s eating some replica of a deep-dish pizza she got in Chicago. But he thinks her pizza choice has less to do with the taste of the pizza and is more because she bumped into Scarlett Johannsson while in line for it.   
  
“I think there’s a stigma that hunters have about monsters. Not all of them only interact with their own clans. It’s efficient to work together. It makes killing people easier,” Charlie says, leaning back in her chair. “I was telling Cas the other day about it and—.”   
  
Dean drops the most delicious pizza in existence right onto the floor.   
  
“What did you just say?”   
  
Charlie raises her head, blinking unknowingly. “Hm?”   
  
Dean edges forward in his seat. “Did you just say you talked to Cas?”   
  
Charlie watches Dean closely in confusion. But she must-see that she’s made a mistake because she starts shaking her head with a nervous laugh.   
  
“No, I didn’t say that.”   
  
“Yes, you did.”   
  
“Maybe I said Cashel,” Charlie says, squirming in her chair. “He’s one of those new angels. I think Jack’s running out of ideas for names. They all sound so similar and—.”   
  
“Charlie,” Dean grits out.   
  
“Fine. Yes, I did see him,” she relents, slumping in her seat. “I don’t even know why I tried lying about it. I hope lying isn’t against the rules here. I don’t want to get kicked off the cloud.”   
  
“If it were against the rules, Kevin would have fallen through the sky yesterday. He said he met Carrie Fisher and that she invited him over for dinner.”   
  
“Why wouldn’t that be true? Everyone loves Kevin. He’d make a great dinner guest.”   
  
“Carrie Fisher is such a legend she wouldn’t even be associating with—wait, stop trying to distract me,” Dean says, arching a finger at her. “Did you see Cas or not?”   
  
“I did,” she says, fiddling with the straw in her cup.   
  
He throws his hands up. “Seriously? Is he just meeting up with everyone except me?”   
  
“Wait, he hasn’t seen you at all yet?”   
  
“No,” Dean says, embarrassed at how pathetic he manages to sound saying one syllable. “What the hell is his problem?”   
  
“I’m sure he’s getting around to it. I mean, you guys are best friends. Though, ‘best friends’ sounds like an insignificant term for what you guys are...”   
  
Dean looks up abruptly from his empty plate, meeting Charlie’s eyes.   
  
“How do you know?” he asks quietly.

“I’ve always known,” Charlie says with a small smile. When Dean raises an eyebrow, Charlie laughs. “Dean, when we first met, you flirted for a guy for me.” Dean cringes, resting his elbow on the table and putting his face into his palms. “Plus, I was only in the same room as you two once or twice, but that was enough to know what you guys feel for each other.”   
  
Dean nods, knowing that’s fair enough. Charlie reaches over, placing a hand on his arm.   
  
“Everyone else here knows it, too. People talk about stuff you two did on earth like they’re talking about an episode of Game of Thrones. By the way, you can’t watch the finale here. Apparently, it’s that bad.”   
  
“Great,” Dean mumbles gruffly. “So, everyone’s seen Cas but me.”   
  
“Maybe he’s just busy.”   
  
Dean huffs, and Charlie relents with a sigh. “Ok, maybe he is avoiding you.”   
  
“You know what? I don’t blame him,” Dean says, kicking the leg of the table. “Not after all the shit that I’ve put him through. Not after years of not making sure he knew how much I cared. Not after he died in front of me with a fucking smile on his face, and I just stood there like an asshole.”   
  
“Dean, he just dropped some big news on you. Understandably, you froze,” Charlie points out. “I mean, was it obvious before that? Yes. Should you guys have had the conversation earlier? Hell yes. Should you have grabbed him by the tie and...” She looks up with a guilty expression. “I’m not helping, am I?”   
  
“No,” Dean shakes his head. “But you have a point.”   
  
“I do?”   
  
“Yeah, he’s probably right to stay away.”   
  
“Dean, that’s not what I—.”   
  
“I’m not that guy he described,” Dean cuts Charlie off. “I’m not worth all the love he gave me. He deserves better.”   
  
Charlie holds his wrist more firmly. “Dean, you both deserve love. He’s not staying away because he regrets it.”   
  
“Then, why is he?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Charlie admits, letting go of his wrist with a frown. “I wish I did.”   
  
Dean closes his eyes, not so much praying with words but sending out every feeling coursing through him that he can’t express.   
  
He exhales as the prayer is yet again met with silence—as it always is.   
  
“Me too,” Dean mutters. 

* * *

It’s not like Cas is avoiding him.   
  
Really, he’s not.   
  
Just every time he happens to come to this heaven, Dean is preoccupied. It’s purely coincidental.   
  
Well, mostly coincidental…   
  
So, he visits other people to make sure they’re all enjoying the place. But if he’s honest, he also spends time here and talks with people just because he wants to. Cas thinks he’s the only angel who longs to go back to the heaven they’ve created instead of back to the main home office. Ironically, he gets homesick for a place that isn’t even his home.   
  
He loves the endless forests he created. Most people here use it for hunting or hiking, but Cas likes to sit under one of the tall evergreen trees. He enjoys hearing the birds and the smell of pine that reminds him of Earth. He also loves the town, filled with stores run by occupants.   
  
But mostly, he’s homesick for this heaven because of the people in it.   
  
He sees Ash, Ellen, and Jo when he visits the Roadhouse. Ellen never lets him leave without eating something, saying he spent too much of his life not enjoying food, and now that he can taste in the new heaven, he has to start making up for it.   
  
Ash loves talking to Cas about the systems heaven uses and advises him on how to strengthen them. Cas listens patiently, even though most of it goes over his head.   
  
He’s grown surprisingly close to Jo over the past few months. Her dry humor and bluntness are things that he appreciates. But Jo gives him these unnerving looks when he abruptly leaves the Roadhouse, knowing the cause of his earlier departure has nothing to do with work and everything to do with Dean walking through the door.   
  
Another place he frequents for the company is Jody’s house. There, he visits Jody and Donna, eager to hear what they know about the girl’s lives that he missed out on after he got taken by the Empty.   
  
He enjoys Donna’s enthusiasm and genuine interest in him, always asking him how it’s going with Jack and the angels. Also, Jody’s even more insistent than Ellen on feeding him. She forces him to eat home-cooked meals every other week with them.   
  
Cas didn’t spend that much time with them on Earth, but he’s glad to make up lost time with them. He feels like they’re truly friends now, and he’s no longer just a tag-along that came included with the Winchester package.   
  
Speaking of the Winchester’s, they do come up in conversation every so often with them. How could they not?

Donna will mention the time she and Dean went through four boxes of donuts on a stakeout. Or Jody will tell the story about when Sam and Eileen's son came over to their house. He was pretending to be a ghost and ran through her screen door, breaking it.   
  
He stops on the way to Jody’s at the store to get a dessert. As he nears the bakery, he sees Dean standing right there, next to the display of pies.   
  
Cas jumps behind one of the nearby grocery shelves, hiding from him. He waits a few seconds before deciding to see if the coast is clear. But as he leans forward to peer around the shelf, he feels someone tapping on his shoulder from behind him.   
  
When Cas turns, he sees one of the girls Jody and Donna have been waiting for, one he has no right to consider his own but does.   
  
“Still got the trench coat, huh?” Claire asks, biting back a smile. “Well, you gotta stick with what works.”   
  
“Claire? You’re already here?” She looks down at herself and then gives him a look as the answer is pretty obvious. “I mean, I know you’re here. But you can’t have—.”   
  
“Don’t worry, dork. I lived to eighty-three,” she interrupts. “But the grey hair didn’t really suit me, and it looks like heaven agrees.”   
  
Cas shoots a look over his shoulder, seeing that Dean is now walking to the checkout counter. He takes the chance to escape, grabbing Claire’s arm and flying them outside to the street across from the grocery store.

“Woah, warn a girl before you zap her somewhere,” Claire says, looking a bit dazed.   
  
“Sorry, are you alright?”   
  
“As of right now? I’m fine. As of my living status, not so fine,” she says, gathering her breath. “I’m dead, in case you didn’t notice.”   
  
“I did happen to notice that,” Cas says, his lips tugging upwards.   
  
Cas looks at her and thinks that she looks just the same as he last saw her. Jean jacket, wild blonde curls, and eyes that could melt your heart or chill your blood depending on her mood.   
  
“How was your life?” he asks. “Was it good?”   
  
“I saved a lot of people, made some mistakes—a lot, but also has Jody and my family to lean on at the end of the day,” Claire answers, looking more relaxed than he’s ever seen her. “I ended up becoming a social worker while still hunting on the side, of course.”   
  
“That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you, Claire.”   
  
“My parents are proud too. I saw them yesterday—or a week ago? I don’t know. Time is messed up here.”   
  
“I’d say it’s more relative, allows you to do whatever you want without feeling rushed.”   
  
In the distance, Cas hears the bell above the store’s entrance door chime. Cas quickly steps behind the corner they’re near, putting his back against the wall to remain out of sight.   
  
Claire frowns in confusion. She looks back at the store, and her eyebrows lower when she sees Dean walking out of the building.   
  
“So, all this time on your hands, and you’re spending it hiding behind shelves and brick walls,” she muses, turning back to Cas with crossed arms. “Why?”   
  
“I was just…appreciating them.”   
  
“Appreciating brick walls and shelves?”   
  
“Uh,” Cas voices, feet shifting in place. “Yes.”   
  
“Well, as interesting as both those things are, I think all the zapping and the hiding is because you’re avoiding something," Claire says with amusement. "Or, more like someone that you’re grossly in love with.”   
  
Cas looks at her questioningly, and Claire rolls her eyes.   
  
“Come on, You two were so obvious. It was a little weird because you had my dad’s face and everything, but I’m rooting for you guys.”   
  
Claire’s words soften him a little, but then, his head begins to ache as Dean begins to pray to him. Cas waits a moment until the feeling passes, leaning against the wall, and squeezes his eyes tight.   
  
“Oh, my gosh, you’re trying to ghost him right now, aren’t you?” Claire gasps.   
  
He feigns confusion. “I don’t even know what that means.”   
  
“Don't lie. You know what ghosting someone is. But instead of ignoring Dean’s texts like a normal person, you’re leaving his prayers on read.”   
  
He remains silent, looking pointedly at his feet.   
  
“Even in heaven, you two are being idiots,” Claire says with a scoff. “You’re freaking out about talking to him, and he’s freaking out that you’ve talked to everyone but him.”   
  
Cas leans off the wall. “You saw him?”   
  
“Yeah, a few days ago.”   
  
“Is he upset with me?”   
  
“No, he’s upset with himself,” Claire says, frowning. “He misses you a lot, Cas.”   
  
Cas looks towards the street Dean’s walking down, unknowing that Cas is only a few yards away.   
  
“I think it’s better if I stay at a distance,” Cas says lowly, forces himself to look away from the street. “Let him enjoy heaven without my intrusion.”   
  
“Something I’ve learned about you is that you often think the right thing involves taking yourself out of the picture,” Claire says. “But too bad, all these humans care about you now, so you’ve got to deal with being in the picture.”   
  
“Glad to see eighty years didn’t make you lose your gumption.”   
  
“Glad to see building a freakin heaven didn’t turn you into a winged robot dick again,” she smirks. “Seriously though, how long are you going to torture the guy? Dean was drunkenly singing 'Angel Eyes' at the Roadhouse the other night.”   
  
“That could be a coincidence. ABBA is a great band.”   
  
Claire narrows her eyes, causing Cas to sigh.   
  
“I’m not trying to torture him. I just don’t want everything we have to fall apart.”   
  
“But it will if you keep doing what you’re doing.”   
  
Claire gives him a kind smile, and despite everything, it makes him smile too. Maybe that means something. Or maybe, it’s just an effect Claire has on him.   
  
“It was good seeing you, but I have to go,” Cas says, taking a few steps back. “I need to meet with Jody and Donna.”   
  
He begins to walk away but hears Claire call from behind him.   
  
“Cas?”   
  
Cas turns. “Yes?”   
  
She walks towards him and then pulls him into a hug. Cas stands still for a moment before hugging her back.   
  
“Be happy,” she whispers near his ear. “You deserve it as much as anyone else here.”   
  
He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods in response. Claire steps back and rolls her eyes at him before walking back in the other direction.   
  
He begins to hear Dean in his mind again. At times, his prayers are soft, barely audible but definite. Other times, they’re loud, shaking with confusion and desperation.   
  
Most recently, though, they come in fragments instead of long dialogues. Small thoughts Dean sends out to him as if casting a fishing line out into the water, not expecting anything to bite back.   
  
Cas presses forward, having to use every ounce of his being to not appear by Dean’s side.

* * *

Dean’s in the kitchen, just finishing making a sandwich. He knows he could get one instantly with the snap of his fingers, but he has the time—an infinite amount of it, in fact, so he tries his best to fill it.   
  
He hears the door open a few seconds after putting on the top piece of bread. He reaches to his side for his nonexistent gun before he remembers there’s no one there. There’s not a need for it. Anyone who walks through that door is part of his heaven. There’s no need even to investigate who it is. So, he waits for whoever it is in the kitchen.   
  
“Hey Sammy,” Dean greets once he sees him enter the room. “Want something to eat?”   
  
“No, I uh...I actually just ate.”   
  
“Oh, you stopped by the Roadhouse again?”   
  
“Um,” Sam fidgets, putting his hands in his pockets. “No.”   
  
Dean turns, seeing Sam’s eyes flickering around the room—landing everywhere but on Dean himself.   
  
“You’re hiding something,” Dean states.   
  
“What?” Sam scoffs, fidgeting even more. “No, I’m not.”   
  
“Dude, you can’t lie to me. Your face scrunches up like a bunny, and you do that weird swallow thing when you’re nervous.”   
  
“Fine,” Sam sighs, looking a little offended. “But when I tell you, promise me you’ll stay calm.”   
  
“Alright,” Dean nods, folding his arms across his chest. “What is it?”   
  
“I ran into him on my jog this morning.”   
  
“Who?”   
  
Sam finally meets his eyes, and Dean instantly sees the answer in them.   
  
His hands drop, gripping the kitchen counter.   
  
“You just…ran into him?”   
  
“Yeah. We started catching up and—.”   
  
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Dean interrupts with a harsh voice, causing Sam to flinch. “That even though I’ve been praying to him every day, looking for him everywhere, you stumble into him and don’t bother to let me know?”   
  
Dean abruptly pushes off everything on the counter in one fell swoop, sending food and utensils crashing onto the floor.   
  
“Stop,” Sam says, leaning down to pick up the plate. “You’re going to break something.”   
  
“It’s heaven. I could fix it with the blink of my eye.”   
  
“You said you would stay calm.”   
  
“That was before I knew you were off gallivanting with Cas without even considering telling me about it!”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Sam apologizes. “It was so good to see him, and I got caught up in it.”   
  
Dean slumps onto one of the chairs. “I can’t believe this.”   
  
Sam sits next to him. “I’m sorry, Dean.”   
  
The room goes quiet. Dean rests his head in his palms, trying to breathe evenly.   
  
In heaven, he thought he wouldn’t feel the panic like this—the kind that creates knots in his stomach and tightens his throat, making it harder to breathe.   
  
While Dean feels lighter here, he’s not immune to experiencing emotions that aren’t exclusively contentment. He supposes that’s a good thing. After all, he doesn’t want to be a mindless zombie for all eternity. Jack probably made heaven that way intentionally, as he knows from personal experience that being cut off from emotions entirely is worse than feeling the less pleasant ones.   
  
Cas claimed that Dean was the one who taught how to feel. But Dean didn’t even know how much was possible to feel until Cas came into his life.   
  
“It’ll get better with time,” Sam says after a while. “With Jess, it took years for me to think about her without feeling like I was going to fall apart. But eventually, it became easier to remember the good stuff and not the bad.”   
  
“That’s the thing, though. I want to remember all of it,” Dean says. “Sure, a lot of bad things happened between us over the years, but even all that bad stuff was good because it was with him.”   
  
As they fall into silence again, Dean stares down at his granite countertop. Logically, he knows that Cas zapped the counter in here with a snap of his fingers, without any assembly required. The granite wasn’t mined, transformed into a slab, and polished.   
  
But Dean also knows that Cas isn’t one to skip out on doing the work. After all, he put Dean’s body back together himself after getting him out of hell.   
  
That fact that Cas built Dean back together piece by piece still scares him sometimes. How could Cas look at his craftsmen ship when he was done and not want to tear his work apart with his bare hands?   
  
But time and time again, Cas stood in front of Dean and saw something worth saving.   
  
Someone worth loving.   
  
“What am I supposed to do with all the feelings I have left for him?” Dean mumbles under his breath. “Because if I let myself think about him, it’s a pain worse than I’ve felt on any hunt that’s gone south.”   
  
Sam scrubs a hand over his face. “I think you need to talk to him.”   
  
Dean snorts. “Oh wow, what great suggestion. Why haven’t I thought of that?”

“No, I mean you should pray to him.” 

“You know I have. I don’t think he can hear me, or he doesn’t want to.”   
  
“Maybe it’s not about needing him to hear you, but letting yourself feel it,” Sam says. “I mean, how can you tell him something you’re too scared to even think about?”   
  
Dean clenches his jaw, staring back down at the counter, looking at something so perfectly crafted that he doesn’t deserve.   
  
“Just give it time,” Sam adds softly.   
  
Dean chuckles hollowly because he’s got plenty of time.   
  
But what if this is something that no amount of time is going to bring?

* * *

Kelly’s in the garden behind her house, watering the purple geraniums. Her skin is sun-kissed from spending so much time outside. She smiles at Cas as he approaches and hands him the spare watering can wordlessly. They don’t speak much when he visits, just seeming to enjoy one another’s company.   
  
Her garden has flowers of every season and habitat blooming together, the perfect picture of harmony. Jack has spent many days of his own with Kelly here, standing amongst the tulips and watching the butterflies flock to the bright yellow marigolds.   
  
After watering the bluebells, which are turning out pretty well, Kelly puts her hand through his.   
  
“I want to show you something,” she says.   
  
“Are the dandelions sprouting near the roses again?”   
  
Kelly shakes her head, leading him around a curve. She walks them towards the section of the garden dedicated to sunflowers.   
  
They stand tall on the ground. Cas has to crane his head up a little to see the top of them.   
  
“They’re amazing flowers—quite underrated if you ask me,” Kelly says, walking up to one of the large steams and placing her hand against it. “Each sunflower actually contains thousands of smaller flowers. Their yellow petals and the brown centers are both individual flowers themselves."   
  
Cas looks at the flower’s head, seeing all the tiny florets on the petals and in the center.   
  
“Interesting.”   
  
“It is.” Kelly turns to him with a smirk. “But you already knew that.”   
  
Cas ducks his head. “Yes, but it’s nice to be reminded of the fact.”   
  
“Then maybe I can remind you about something else about them too,” she says, her fingers curling around the flower's steam gently. “Sunflowers move in response to the sun. At night, the steams grow on their west side, bending eastward as they anticipate the sunrise. Then during the day, they follow the sun by moving west. But, over time, their growth starts to slow down.”   
  
“Yes, I believe once they mature, they remain facing east,” Cas confirms. “They learn that they gain the most light in the morning, so it’s needless to move towards the sun as it sets because it will come back to them again.”   
  
“So, in a sense, them being afraid of losing the sun’s light actually makes them get less of it,” Kelly states, picking a petal from one of the sunflowers. “And they’re moving back and forth when they’re already in the place they should be.”   
  
Cas smiles, but it falls as Kelly turns to him with a knowing gleam in her eyes.   
  
“What are you trying to tell me?”   
  
“Nothing,” she shrugs innocently, “But that aspect of the sunflowers reminds me of someone, but I can’t seem to remember who that is.”   
  
He quirks an eyebrow. “Really, you have no clue?”   
  
“Nope,” she says, placing the petal in his hands with a bright smile. “None whatsoever.”   
  
Kelly links her arm through his, and they start walking around the garden again.   
  
Cas keeps the petal in his palm, wondering if he has the strength to make his own roots. And if he does stay put, would the waiting he’s done through many moons finally earn him a steady sun? 

* * *

Dean decides to go for a drive through town just because he can. But when he sees a familiar face on the street, he slams on his breaks.   
  
He stops the car right in the middle of the road, not even closing the door as he rushes out of it.   
  
“Cas!” he shouts.   
  
Cas doesn’t turn or even stop at the sound of his name. Dean grits his teeth. He knows the damn son of a bitch can hear him. Dean begins running towards him, startling some on-lookers on the street as he blows past them.   
  
Dean eventually catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulders. Cas jumps in surprise, making his earbuds fall out of his ears. Dean frowns in confusion at the earbuds which land on the sidewalk.   
  
When he finally turns around to face him, Dean feels like he just got punched in the stomach by a freight truck.   
  
“I—uh,” Dean stutters, feeling his cheeks flaming, “Sorry, I thought you were…”   
  
“You thought I was Cas,” Jimmy finishes, letting out a long sigh of annoyance. “This is happening a lot. But it’s Jimmy, you know, the original owner of this body.”   
  
“Right,” Dean says, dropping his hands from Jimmy’s shoulders. “I can see that.”   
  
Jimmy tilts his head. “Can you?”   
  
The gesture causes Dean to wince, as it looks so familiar but so foreign at the same time.   
  
“Yeah, I mean, you have the same face, but Cas makes it look different.”

Jimmy laughs. “Wow, should I be insulted?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“You think when he’s in my body, he wears it better,” Jimmy asserts, crossing his arms with a smug smile. “Don’t you?”   
  
Dean swallows. “I didn’t say that...”   
  
“No, but you were thinking it.”   
  
Dean bites down on his lip, knowing he was indeed thinking that.   
  
Jimmy shakes his head. “Man, he continued to use my body and even my clothes after I died. He stole both my look and my life.”   
  
“He’s really sorry, by the way,” Dean says abruptly. “For everything that happened to you and your family. You have to know that he regrets it more than any—.”   
  
“I do know,” Jimmy interrupts. “He visited me.”   
  
“Oh, that must’ve been interesting,” Dean says, picturing both of them in the same room. It reminds him of some Spider-Man meme that Claire sent him once.  
  
“It was really awkward at first, but Cas is very different than the one I knew. He apologized and seemed so sincere and full of life in a way he wasn’t before. It was hard not to forgive him.”   
  
Dean chuckles. “Yeah, he’s hard not to like.”   
  
“Also, I’ve heard tales of all the things he did on Earth. It sounds like he saved a lot of lives and changed the world for the better,” Jimmy admits. “I’m not saying I’d make the decision I made again, but maybe saying yes did some good.”   
  
“I know this probably doesn’t mean anything to you,” Dean begins to say, the corner of his lips uncontrollably tugging upwards. “But I know when you said yes, it definitely did some good for me.”   
  
“Oh, really?” Jimmy asks, a slow smile forming on his face. “Wow.”   
  
“I mean, I probably would have fallen for him no matter the vessel,” Dean says, kicking at a rock at his feet. If he’s too still, he’s afraid he might combust out of embarrassment. “But—.”   
  
“But my eyes,” Jimmy cuts in knowingly, sparkling those big baby blues at Dean right now. It makes something in Dean ache, the familiar color in Jimmy’s eyes lacking the vibrancy when it’s Cas who’s looking at him. “Yep, I know. He liked yours too.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
Jimmy nods, and Dean feels something akin to butterflies in his stomach, but he would never call them butterflies, no matter how much the bastards are fluttering right now.   
  
He takes a step towards Jimmy after looking around to make sure no one else hears how pathetic he’s about to sound.   
  
“Uh, did he say that to you or—?”   
  
“We’re not teenagers at a slumber party,” Jimmy interrupts with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not going to tell you if your astrological signs match or make you take a quiz in a magazine that proves that he’s totally into you.”   
  
Dean grimaces, making Jimmy's exhausted expression quickly soften. He studies Dean for a moment, seeing a man in heaven who isn’t fully at peace like he should be.   
  
“But Dean...he is totally into you,” Jimmy says.   
  
Dean’s head whips up. “How do you know?”   
  
“I had to sit through you staring at Cas when I was tethered to him, and he stared back through my eyes. I heard that didn’t stop after I left,” Jimmy smiles, but it’s the kind of smile a teacher has when explaining a math problem that they’ve already gone over with you five times before. “Trust me. He’s into you.”   
  
“But he hasn’t come to see me yet.”   
  
“He always comes when you call, right?”   
  
“He used to," Dean mutters. "But Maybe he finally wised up, got a new number that I can’t reach him at."   
  
Jimmy leans in, whispering, “Maybe it’s not about dialing the right number, but about leaving the right message.”   
  
Dean blinks at him. “What the hell does that mean?”   
  
Jimmy turns his head up to the sky. “How did anyone here put up with you Winchester’s?” he asks in pure bafflement. “I honestly don’t get the appeal, even after Claire explained it to me.”   
  
He continues muttering to himself as he walks away, his trench coat swinging slightly in the gentle breeze.

Dean pulls out his phone from his pocket. He stares at it as if it’s turned into one of those dumb Sudoku puzzles that Sam, for some reason, found to be entertaining.

* * *

When Cas appears suddenly on Bobby’s porch, he doesn’t seem surprised to see him. It’s almost as if Bobby was expecting his arrival, even though Cas didn’t decide until seconds ago that he was coming to visit him. But it’s not too strange, as Cas always thought Bobby had a sixth sense, seeing things on the horizon before others.   
  
For a while, they just sit in silence, watching the sunset.   
  
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Cas says after a while.   
  
“I’ve only done what you made possible.”   
  
Bobby smiles at Cas then, which Cas returns.   
  
They look out at the sky again, watching the orange and pink colors bleed together as if the two colors were invented to be interwoven at this exact moment.   
  
“How are you?” Cas asks.   
  
“I’m great, thanks to you,” Bobby says. He then sits up, turning towards Cas seriously. “You know, I saw Sam and Dean as my own, and I was thankful when you came along. They deserved someone to look out for them, and you deserved people to look out for you.”   
  
Cas shifts in his chair. “I don’t know about that.”   
  
“You’re a part of my family too,” Bobby insists firmly. Cas opens his mouth to give his gratitude, but Bobby continues, “Which is why I feel like I can tell you that you’re an idjit.”   
  
Cas face scrunches. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”   
  
“It’s a word for how insufferable you both are acting right now.”   
  
“Both?”   
  
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about, boy,” Bobby grunts. “Dean is sulking and blaming himself like an idjit, and you’re avoiding him like it’s the best thing for him like an idjit.”   
  
“It is the best thing for him,” Cas urges. “I caused him a lot of pain on earth.”   
  
“He caused you pain too. He caused me pain—don’t mean you shouldn’t love someone.”   
  
“It’s not about not loving him—that is something I couldn’t stop if I tried,” Cas says lowly. “It’s about making sure he has the eternity he deserves.”   
  
Bobby’s frustration melts into something a bit different, more like a look of sympathy.   
  
Cas feels vulnerable under his stare as if he’s some trembling thing that needs to be covered in a blanket.   
  
But he and Cas both know it’s a cold is not external. It’s a cold he’s inflicting on himself.   
  
Bobby turns back to the sunset. “Beautiful sight, isn’t it?”   
  
Cas blinks at the abrupt change of subject but nods. “Uh, yes.”   
  
“You can tell that you put so much into building this. You did well.”   
  
Cas smile is reserved, knowing that Bobby’s revving towards something.   
  
“This place you created is amazing, but it ain’t perfect,” Bobby notes. “At night, it’s still a bit too cold, you can’t avoid lines at the store, and that sunset still has clouds covering the skyline.”   
  
“I didn’t want it to be perfect. Humans spend their entire lives striving for it, but it’s often hollow. You take so much away to gain it,” Cas reasons. “Imperfection feels much more real. There is a genuine beauty in it, appreciating something with all its complications and flaws. Imperfection gives life meaning and worth.”   
  
“Yet you’re afraid of seeing Dean because you think your presence will make his afterlife imperfect,” Bobby snippily points out. “As if you wouldn’t add more worth to it.”   
  
Cas takes in a sharp breath. “Bobby—.”   
  
“No, get out of here,” Bobby commands. “I don’t wanna see you or talk to you till you to talk to him. I told Dean the same thing the other day when he came to me moping again.”   
  
“But I—.”   
  
“What did I say?” Bobby asks, scowling. “Get going, or both of your eternities are going to be shorter than you planned.”   
  
He considers pointing out that Bobby can’t hurt anyone in heaven, especially angels, but he keeps his mouth shut. Cas knows it’s not wise to cross Bobby Singer, no matter how invincible he is.   
  
He stands up and starts walking down the steps. But he pauses halfway down, looking back over his shoulder.   
  
“What if things aren’t the same?” Cas asks, his feet shifting nervously. “What if we can’t go back to the way that it was before?”   
  
Bobby’s gruff demeanor cracks an inch, his lips twitching upwards.   
  
“Well, then, maybe you’ll get some of that life filled with meaning that you were prattling on about.”

* * *

Dean goes to the lake a few yards from his house but forgoes bringing his fishing pole. He sits on a bench a few feet away from the water.   
  
He sighs, closing his eyes. “Cas, it’s me again.”   
  
Like always, Dean hears nothing. But he folds his hands together, bowing his head.   
  
“Jimmy said I need to leave the right message, whatever the hell that means,” he grunts. “I don’t know what messages are left to leave. I’ve told you over and over again how much I want to see you, how much I miss you, how much I need you here. I want to say more, but I can’t. I need to say it to your face.”   
  
While there’s no voice answering him, Dean swears he hears a soft hum. He feels his heart leap in his chest and presses on after taking a deep breath.   
  
“But what I can say now is that we’ll figure it out—whatever thing is getting in the way of you seeing me, we’ll work through it. Because, what’s the alternative, spending eternity avoiding each other? That ain’t going to work. Not being in each other’s lives has never worked. We’ve always found a way back to one another. So, we can do it one last time.” Dean slowly opens his eyes, looking out at the water. The sun’s just setting, creating a bright flash as it meets the horizon. “I believe in us, Cas. Do you?”   
  
A few achingly slow seconds pass before he hears a rustling of wings behind him.   
  
Dean’s breath hitches, his body going still. He’s afraid of moving as if one single turn of his head or flex of his fingers could scare him off, and the sun would never return to the sky.   
  
“Cas?”   
  
There’s a beat of silence, and Dean’s fist clench for thinking this prayer would work when so many didn’t. Maybe he’s getting so pathetic that his desperation is making him hear things.   
  
“Hello, Dean.”   
  
He turns, seeing Cas standing behind the bench. There’s a small smile on his face, and his hands fidget awkwardly into his trench coat pockets.   
  
Dean doesn't think he's ever moved faster in his life than he does at that moment. He jolts up, pulling Cas towards him.   
  
“It’s good to see you,” Dean says, his arms clasping Cas’ shoulders as if he’s an anchor keeping him afloat. “Man, it’s so good to see you.”   
  
Cas is still for a few seconds before returning the embrace, gripping Dean tightly and resting his chin over his shoulder. 

They sway back and forth in each other’s arms, for he doesn’t know how long. Dean wants to memorize the way this feels, to hold Cas without worrying whether he’s lingering too long or if the next big bad is going to come and break them apart.   
  
Once they separate, he doesn’t let Cas go far, leaving a hand on his arm.

“I hope I didn’t take too long,” Cas says.

“Whenever you’re not around, it always feels like too damn long.”   
  
“Maybe I should talk with Jack because time here should make you feel like you’re not waiting.”   
  
“It’s alright,” Dean shakes his head. “I’d wait for you as long as it takes.”   
  
Cas’s lips flicker down. “To be honest, I was hoping to wait for you a little longer.”   
  
“Yeah, a nail got in the way,” Dean mutters.   
  
“I’m so sorry, Dean.”   
  
“Me too,” Dean nods but looks around, breathing in the clean air and somehow feeling the sunlight hitting his face despite the sun already disappearing behind the skyline. “But it’s nice here.”   
  
“Good, I wanted to make sure heaven was perfect for you,” Cas smiles softly. “You deserve it.”   
  
Something in Dean shifts at Cas’s words, his shoulders tensing.   
  
“So, where the hell have you been?”   
  
Cas adverts his eyes to the water. “I’ve been busy.”   
  
“Yet you managed to talk to practically everyone but me,” Dean points out, causing Cas to flinch. He steps back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Man, avoiding me has always been easy for you, hasn’t it?”   
  
“What are you talking about?”   
  
“I’m talking about how you’re always the one who leaves,” Dean snaps.   
  
Cas’s eyes harden suddenly. “You’re the one always pushing me out the door.”   
  
“Just admit it. Life without me is easier.”   
  
“That’s not true.”   
  
“It is. I bet you were off having a friggin blast in this utopia you’ve created without even thinking about me!”   
  
“Dean, there hasn’t been a moment here where I haven’t thought about you!”   
  
Dean halts, startled by the proclamation and the way Cas’s voice cracks.   
  
“This whole time, I’ve wanted to see you, but I knew it wasn’t the time,” Cas continues slowly, and Dean sees something in his demeanor crumble. “You needed to readjust.”   
  
“Bullshit.”   
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
“Bullshit,” Dean repeats, more firmly than before. Cas’s eyes widen as Dean begins to get closer, crossing into the space between them that’s always been strangely easy to inhabit. “You weren’t avoiding me because I needed time to adjust. You made this heaven with my dream home and everyone I love in it. You knew adjusting wasn’t going to be a problem.”   
  
Cas lowers his head. “You’re right,” he admits quietly. “I was the one who needed to adjust.”   
  
“What do you mean?" Dean asks, his brows furrowing. "This is heaven, isn’t it sort of an angel’s hometown.”   
  
“It’s not a home for angels. It’s a place of work. But for me, the two coexist.”   
  
“Is that a bad thing?”   
  
“No, but it’s unfair,” Cas answers, his voice growing thick. “I designed this heaven for all the people I love, especially you. I wasn’t supposed to feel so tied to it.”   
  
Dean feels something hopeful grow in his chest.   
  
“But you do feel tied to it?” 

Cas nods. 

“It’s like I dived into an ocean I made for the fish,” Cas explains, glancing down at his feet, moving around specs of dirt that he probably placed there with his shoe. “Instead of swimming to the surface or sinking like I’m supposed to, my body acclimates to the environment. It’s like I’m holding water with weighted wings.”   
  
“So, if your wings can hold the water, it means you’re meant to stay with the fish,” Dean reasons. “You’re the angel who breaks the rules, remember? Why not break this one?”   
  
“It’s not about me not wanting to break a rule.”   
  
“Then what’s it about?” Dean asks impatiently.   
  
Cas opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything.   
  
Dean swallows. He hears the fear that’s been on his mind ever since he got here begin to blare louder than ever.   
  
“Is this about you regretting what you said?”   
  
Dean’s question surprises Cas, his head jerking upwards. “What do you mean?”   
  
Dean rubs at his eyes, feeling the sting of something wet there that burns. “The avoiding me and ignoring my prayers—is it because all that stuff you said before the Empty took you isn’t true anymore?”   
  
“Dean, I meant every word,” Cas says vehemently. “I felt that way. I still do.”   
  
Dean bites down hard on his lower lip, wanting to stop the question from escaping mouth lips but knowing it will.   
  
“Then why didn’t you want to come and see me?”   
  
Cas sighs. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me after how we left things. When I said all of that, I never expected to see you again. But now, with both of us in heaven, I didn’t know where we stood.”   
  
“So, you just expected to dump all of that on me, die in front of me, and leave me be in heaven as if I didn’t matter—as if what we had didn’t even matter?”   
  
“Of course, you matter. What we have matters,” Cas emphasizes. “That’s why I didn’t want to see the mess I made of it.”   
  
Dean shakes his head at the ground, but he feels Cas’s hand land on his shoulder.   
  
When Dean looks up at him, there’s a desperation in his eyes, something so fragile, as if his whole being could shatter within seconds.   
  
“But we can work through this like you said. We can go back to the way things were,” Cas says, edging towards Dean hesitantly. “Can’t we?”   
  
“Dammit, Cas, I don’t want to go back to the way things were.”   
  
Cas stills and Dean curses under his breath at how quickly that slipped out.   
  
“What do you mean?” Cas asks hesitantly.   
  
Dean feels a sense of resolve go through him, reaching forward and grabbing Cas’s hand before he can second guess it. His breath begins to steady as he looks at their intertwined hands. It’s almost as if someone’s foot has leaned off his throat.   
  
“Cas, I need to say what I should’ve said that night, what I should’ve said years before that night, I’m being honest.”   
  
He watches as Cas’s eyes remain trained on their hands as if trying to tell if this is some sort of illusion. Dean squeezes his palm, causing Cas to look back up at him with a searching expression.   
  
“All that stuff you said about me changing you? It’s something I couldn’t comprehend. You’re an angel. I didn’t think angels could feel that way, or that you could…I mean, you saw the first fish crawl onto the sand. How can you look at me and love me?”   
  
“How could I look at you and not love you?” Cas returns smoothly—like it was the simplest question that he’s ever been asked.   
  
Dean lets out a shaky-sounding laugh, realizing that it really is that simple when it comes down.   
  
“Then don’t you understand that it’s the same for me?”   
  
Cas doesn’t say anything, his eyes opening wide in utter surprise. Dean grips his hand tighter, wanting to ground Cas down to the reality he, for some reason, can’t see beneath his feet.   
  
“Cas, ever since you pulled me out of hell, my life has just been more,” Dean states concretely. “You made me want something more out of my life than just living to die for someone else. When I started to think about what that more was, it always came back to you. You were the more I wanted—the more that I still want.”   
  
Cas’s face is less clouded, and dean can see the light peeking through.   
  
“What are you saying?”   
  
“I’m saying that I love you.”   
  
Cas’s eyes begin to glisten, and Dean moves his hand to cup his cheek.   
  
“I’m sorry if I ever made you think otherwise. Because you can have it, Cas, whatever it is you want with me, you can have it all.”   
  
“Dean…”   
  
“And I’ll spend every day up here trying to make you feel loved, the way you showed me how, if you stay,” Dean promises, running his fingers over his cheek. “Will you stay here with me?”   
  
“Yes, I’ll stay,” Cas smiles, and it’s the most breathtaking thing Dean has ever seen. “I want it all.”   
  
Dean grins, and never—not even after they killed Chuck or when he came to heaven, has he ever felt so free.   
  
“Good, then let’s have it.”   
  
Dean doesn’t know who moves first, but it doesn’t really matter.   
  
Suddenly, he’s kissing Cas, and it finally starts to feel like heaven.   
  
If this is Cas finally accepting the water that’s been weighing him down to heaven, then Dean wants to submerge him in with the waves from every ocean if it means getting him to stay.

* * *

They’re on the bench sometime later. Cas doesn’t really know how long has passed. Keeping track of time here is difficult, but it’s even more of a challenge when Dean’s hands are running down his back, and his tongue is skimming his bottom lip. 

Cas pushes Dean towards the bench, so Dean’s back is lying against it. Dean lets out a low moan that vibrates against Cas’s skin. His mouth begins to work his way down Dean’s neck. 

He can’t help but steal glances at him, still unable to process how beautiful Dean Winchester is and how somehow, he’s now his.

“Cas,” Dean murmurs, running his hands through his hair. It sends a thrill through him, hearing his name so breathless on Dean’s lips. Cas tries to kiss him again, but Dean pulls his head back a little, his eyes fluttering open. “What took you so long?”

“I thought we already covered this,” Cas says. Honestly, he’s a bit annoyed by the interruption. 

“Not what took you so long to come to see me,” Dean sits up on the bench but doesn’t let Cas move far, keeping his arms around him. “What took you so long to say it?” 

“I was happy with what we had.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Obviously, that ain’t true. Otherwise, the Empty would have come and got you earlier.”

Cas frowns, thrown by the change of mood. “Why are you upset with me?”

“I’m not upset at you. I’m upset with myself,” Dean corrects gruffly. “Even if you didn’t know how I felt about you, you still didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me.”

“I couldn’t face things changing, of ruining what we had because I felt something you could never feel.”

Dean sighs. “Cas—.”

“I know now that’s not true now,” Cas interrupts. “I know you could feel that way—that you do.”

But even as Cas says it, the words sound uncertain coming from his lips. 

His head raises as Dean tilts up his chin, forcing Cas to meet his eyes.

“I love you,” Dean repeats, his voice more steady and sure he’s ever heard it. “That shouldn’t be a question. Not anymore.”

Cas nods, and this seems to satisfy Dean, beginning to kiss him again. 

“Why you love me, though, should still be in question,” Dean murmurs against his lips. 

"But I already told you.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around.”

Cas’s fingers curl gently around Dean’s neck, “Your eyes.”

Dean blinks. “What?”

“They’re so green, like trees that stand tall in the woods. Making me feel a little lost, but also making me feel like you could circle them forever and be content,” Cas explains, smiling softly at him. “Your love for humanity. Your grumpiness in the morning. Your ugly flannels.” 

“You think they’re ugly?” Dean asks, looking affronted. 

“Your perseverance to keep fighting. Your childish heart and humor. Also, your consistent loyalty.” 

Dean smiles hesitantly. “What are you doing?”

“Making a list of why I love you,” Cas says, his thumb outlining Dean’s chin, studying the contours of his face. “We have eternity. I could go on and on.”

“Oh no,” Dean says, grabbing his hand and pulling it off his face, holding it between them instead. “I’m going to give you a list.”

Cas fidgets. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh yes, it is.” 

Cas tries to protest, but his words are stolen as Dean leans in and kisses him tenderly. 

“Your eyes, they’re so goddamn blue it’s not even fair,” Dean murmurs, his mouth drifting near the corners of his eyes. “Your bravery and your courage to stand by someone’s side even when you know the battle is a lost cause,” he adds and kisses him again, his tongue grazing against his. Cas melts into his touch, but Dean keeps pulling back to speak. “Your compassion to help everyone. Your dorky humor. Your obliviousness.”

Cas tilts his head back. “Hey.”

Dean hands gripping the back of Cas’s head, pulling him closer. “You’re friggin irresistible messy hair. Your raggedy coat. Your kindness, your smile, your voice.” Dean’s face hovers close to Cas's, his lips mere inches away from his as he whispers, “You.” 

He kisses Cas again, going achingly slow this time. There’s a clenching feeling in Cas’s gut, and even though they’ve never been this close before, it doesn’t feel close enough. 

Dean seems to feel the same, his hands gripping his hip and pulling his body flush against his. Cas’s breath hitches, and his hands fumble underneath Dean’s shirt. 

Dean’s breath shudders at Cas’s touch. Cas feels a jolt of satisfaction, unable to believe he has this effect on him. It makes him suddenly need to know how far back this effect goes. 

“How long?” 

“How long what?” 

“How long have you felt this way?” Cas asks. “You said you’ve wanted to tell me before that night, years before.” 

Dean stretches his arm across the back of the bench, around Cas's shoulders as he thinks over the question. 

“I think I've felt it for a long time, but I tried to excuse what I felt for you by calling it something else,” Dean explains, and Cas feels his thumbs twitch anxiously against his shoulder. “But it wasn’t something else—I knew it was more. I only started to have some awareness of it, though, when you walked into that lake." 

Cas squints at him, "When I released the leviathans?”

“Yeah. When you were working with Crowley, I felt so betrayed. I’d been betrayed before, but it was different that time. I couldn’t get over it,” he says, starting to frown. “I was a mess when you were gone, man. I was going through the motions, numb to everything.” 

Cas squeezes his hand reassuringly, and Dean smiles gently and moves closer to him. 

“Still, I couldn't let my mind go there. But whenever you came back to me somehow, it's like hints of color began bleeding themselves through the black and white. Like when I saw you at the bottom of the stairs at Daphne’s house, when I saw you by the lake in Purgatory, and when you were standing in front of that photo booth," Dean lists. “But that last time, when we got separated in Purgatory again, and I saw you sitting by that tree, it's like everything came into full color. I knew then that what I was feeling was love.”

“But you never...you didn't say anything,” Cas stutters in disbelief. 

“Because you made me confront something about myself that I always knew but had buried,” Dean says. “So, didn’t do anything about it, especially because I thought there was no way in hell you would ever feel the same. So, I was happy with what we had, but I’m happier now.” 

Cas rests his head against Dean’s. “Me too.”

“So, when did you know?” Dean asks. 

“I’m not sure,” Cas answers honestly. “It wasn’t one moment. It was something that happened gradually. I suppose you had a right to think that being an angel meant I couldn’t feel that way. During the first few years that we knew each other, I had to navigate every emotion I was beginning to have.” 

Cas starts running his thumb over each of Dean’s freckles as he continues, "What I felt for you was confusing. For the longest time, I couldn’t pinpoint what I was feeling. But as I came to understand humanity, becoming human, and spending more time on earth, I understood myself and the feelings I had for you. It was like my love for you was woven into me—something that was always there.” 

“Why did you never say anything?” Dean asks, eyes searching his intently.

“Same reason you didn’t,” Cas shrugs. “I thought you’d never feel the same. I made my peace with it.”

Dean laces their hands together, observing them with a smile. “Can you believe we could’ve been doing this the whole time?”, 

“Maybe it’s best we didn’t. It would’ve been far too distracting. We might’ve slipped up trying to save the world one of the many times we had to.” 

“Are you saying that an angel of the lord, a warrior of heaven, can be distracted by this?” Dean asks, gesturing to himself. 

Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean smirks. 

“Come on, let me be a little proud of myself.”

“Your ego doesn’t need to be any bigger. I’m not inflating it.”

“Too late, I’ve heard your list,” Dean hums, pressing his lips to Cas’s temple. “No going back now.” 

Cas lowers his head, his mouth brushing against Dean’s gently, as if Dean’s something priceless he’s afraid of breaking. Dean deepens the kiss, making it clear that Cas can break him in any way he wants. It makes Cas think that being broken isn’t actually a bad thing like he once thought. 

Maybe being broken means being vulnerable, letting your shattered pieces fall, and having the courage to pick them back up. WHEN you put the pieces back together, it forms something more beautiful than before. 

* * *

Dean hasn’t left his house in what feels like a few days. He feels like he can now really enjoy it, as the missing part of it is now present, making his house truly feel like a home. 

They’re in bed, his limbs tangled with Cas’s when he hears a knock on the door. 

“Dean, we should get that.” 

He continues to kiss his jaw, “We’re kind of busy right now.” 

“What if it’s important?” 

“I honestly can’t think of anything that’s not in this vicinity,” he says, pointing at Cas below him. 

Cas tilts his head on the pillow. “You just gestured to all of me.” 

Dean smirks. “Exactly.” 

He starts to kiss him again, and he thinks he’s made Cas forget about the knocking entirely, but the knocking starts up again. 

Cas shifts up on the bed, leaning against the bedframe. Dean groans as he gets off of him. He walks out of the bedroom and towards the front of the house. 

“Damn it, who is it?” Dean grumbles loudly as he opens the door. 

“Uh, it’s Jo,” she answers, standing on his porch. She's holding out a tray of small shot glasses filled with whiskey so strong that he can smell from here. “You wanted me to bring over some samples for the party next week. Remember?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean nods, most of his body still covered by the door he’s holding open. “But now isn't a great time.”

“Not a great time for whiskey?” she quirks her head, scanning him curiously. “Are you ok?” 

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but Jo brushes past him into the house. She sets down the tray on the living room table and sits down on the couch. 

“I mean, you can’t get sick here, but leave it to an idiot like you to find a way.” 

“As always, your kindness is overwhelming,” he says dryly. 

Jo watches him suspiciously, and Dean doesn’t back down, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes begging her to leave. 

“Alright,” she sighs reluctantly, standing up. “Well...I guess I’ll come back later.” 

Dean guides her back towards the door, quickening his pace as he hears Cas’s footsteps approaching from behind them.

“See ya,” Dean says, opening the door. 

Jo walks through the door. But as he starts to close it, one of Jo’s hands catches the door, pulling it back open. Before he can berate her, she’s already walking back into the house and towards the living room.

“I almost forgot my—Cas!” Jo exclaims, blinking in surprise at Cas, who’s now standing in the living room. “Well, not my Cas. I guess, your Cas,” she stutters, turning towards Dean and then wincing. “I mean, he’s an independent man or man-angel. He doesn’t belong to anybody. Although, that hickey says otherwise.”

Dean flushes, but Cas makes no move to cover his neck. He actually looks a bit cocky about it.

“It’s good to see you, Jo,” Cas says. 

“It’s good to see you too. We’ve missed you around the roadhouse the past couple of days,” she says and then turns an accusatory look towards Dean. “You don’t end up drunk and flipping over pool tables, unlike some people.” 

“Ketch cheated! He pushed his ball in one of the sockets when I was turned around.” 

She ignores his defense, gesturing between them with a smirk. “So, this is happening now?” 

“Yes, Jo. Because apparently in heaven, we live in the 50s. Where it’s big news when two people outgoing steady, I gave him my pin and everything,” Dean says dryly.

She winks. “I bet you did.” 

“Dean, you’re being rude,” Cas tells him. “Jo is a guest.” 

“Yeah, Dean, I’m a guest,” she repeats, crossing her arms proudly. “You should offer me something to drink.” 

“You brought your own whiskey!” 

“You’re supposed to offer me something of your own,” Jo retorts and turns to Cas with an exaggerated pout. “Cas, your boyfriend has no manners.” 

“I know,” Cas commiserates, playing along with Jo, a smile hinting at his face. “He didn’t even open the door for me when I came here.” 

“Because you flew in!” 

“That’s no excuse,” Jo tells him. 

“Jo’s right. It’s the thought that counts.” 

“Stop ganging up on me,” Dean barks. “You two are more insufferable together. I don’t like it.” 

“I do,” Jo counters, looking at Cas with a smile. “I think we just became best friends.”

“Coffee?” 

“Two creams, no sugar.”

“I’m on it,” Cas nods and turns to Dean. “You want some too?”

“Yeah, that would be good. I’ll take—.” 

“It black, with just a pinch of sugar,” Cas finishes.

“Yeah,” Dean smiles, feeling his shoulders relax under Cas’s gaze. “You know me.” 

Cas steps closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek before saying, “I do.” 

As he walks to the kitchen, Dean watches him leave and feels an overwhelming sense of fondness. 

Jo starts sniggering, “Wow.” 

Dean turns to her, snapping out of his daze. “What?” 

“You really love him, huh?” 

The question isn’t as terrifying to answer as it should be. 

“Yeah,” he nods simply. “I do.” 

“Good,” she steps towards him, a bright smile on her face. “Because you deserve this.” 

“Back when we knew each other on earth, I would have told you I didn’t. Or, more likely, I’d tell you I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“But now?”

“But now…I can say that you might be right.”

She quirks a brow. “Just might?”

“Don’t push it.” 

Cas enters the room with two coffee cups in hand. 

“Here’s the coffee,” Cas says, giving it to both of them. 

“We could have technically just zapped it ourselves, you know,” Dean reminds him as he takes the mug. 

“But it’s better made by hand.” 

“Did you use the coffee machine?”

“Yeah,” Cas admits, looking cross. “But I pushed the button.” 

Dean can’t help but smile, murmuring a thank you as he takes a sip. 

After he does, he can agree with Cas. It does taste better made by hand. Or maybe it’s just because he knows that Cas made it for him, making it taste better. 

God, is he a sap now? Dean wants to be angry at Cas for turning him into a doe-eyed loser so quickly, but he can’t find it in him, leaning against Cas's side. 

“So, are you coming to the party, Cas?” Jo asks, taking a sip of her drink. 

“What party?” 

“Dean’s deathday party.” 

Cas frowns in confusion. “His what?” 

“We’re not getting older anymore, so there’s no point in celebrating birthdays,” Dean explains. “We thought we’d celebrate death days, to celebrate another year in paradise.” 

“Alright,” Cas nods, looking a bit befuddled by the prospect but understanding it all the same. “I’ll come if you want me there.” 

“Of course, we want you there,” Dean assures and then gets a flash of an idea. “Well, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Dean smirks, and Jo laughs, following his train of thought. 

He’s suddenly even more excited about this death day party than before. 

* * *

Cas fidgets in front of the mirror, rolling up the sleeves of the blue flannel. He’s wearing a pair of jeans for the first time since he was human, and the material scratches his skin awkwardly.   
  
He turns around to Dean sitting on the bed behind him and holds out his arms.   
  
“So, how do I look?”   
  
“You look,” Dean stands up, his words drifting as he scans him, an affectionate smile etching on his face. “Wow.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Man, we should have got you to switch up the duds on earth,” he says and reaches out his hand to undo the buttons on the flannel to reveal the shirt underneath. “Not that I don’t love your tax account look, but there’s something about seeing you in a flannel and jeans that fit just right.”   
  
Cas laughs as Dean’s hands linger on his chest, feeling the flannel fabric as if it was made of silk. But his laughter drifts as he turns, looking back at his reflection.   
  
It looks like the flannel overwhelms him.   
  
“Dean?”   
  
Dean drops his head on top of Cas’s shoulder, meeting Cas’s eyes in the mirror. “Hm?”   
  
“Are you sure I should come?”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“I created this heaven for everyone you love to be together,” Cas says, his voice growing faint. “I don’t want to be an intruder.”   
  
“Cas, you know you’re a part of my family.”   
  
“I know.” Cas’s eyes drift down, unable to meet his reflection any longer. “But, I’m not the same as everyone else.”   
  
“Cas, look at me.”   
  
He doesn’t—he can’t. He doesn’t want to see pity in them. But Dean grabs his shoulders, forcing him to turn around and meet his eyes.   
  
When he does, there isn’t pity.   
  
Instead, Dean’s looking at him with an ardent intensity, which makes it impossible for Cas to look away.   
  
“Everyone in my life that I love is going to be at the Roadhouse. Well, Ketch, I just tolerate, but everyone else I love,” he says and puts a hand on Cas’s cheek. “But even with all those people, that room would feel pretty damn empty without you in it.”

Cas lets out a breath, feeling the weight of this truth settle on his shoulders.   
  
“You understand?” Dean asks.   
  
Cas nods. “I understand.”   
  
Dean begins to squirm, shuffling his feet and reaching his hands into his pockets even though there’s nothing in them. Cas waits patiently. He’s recognized over the years that Dean moves his body needlessly when he’s about to say something that makes him feel uncomfortable due to the vulnerability it requires.   
  
Vulnerability is a state of being that Dean's father conditioned him to believe meant danger, that he should avoid at all costs. It’s probably why it took Dean so long to believe that having what he wanted wasn’t a weakness but a strength.   
  
“Look, I don’t know how to phrase things as well as you...but you’re it, man,” Dean says resolutely, his eyes glowing with something Cas can now clearly define. “You’re it for me.”   
  
Even though Dean just praised his eloquent phrasing, he can’t for the life of him think of anything to say.   
  
So, in response, he leans up, kissing him with a tenderness that seems to be strictly reserved for Dean to receive.   
  
Dean’s arms envelop Cas’s body firmly, and Cas’s mouth becomes a bit desperate on his. It’s like he’s trying to prove a point—trying to show dean how much he needs him.   
  
Dean’s gripping the back of Cas’s head, his fingers digging into his scalp and releasing a moan from Cas’s lips.   
  
“We should get going,” Cas rasps, his face stinging in the best possible way as Dean’s stubble scratches against it. “We’re going to be late to your own party.”   
  
“Let them wait,” Dean says, nipping down hard Cas’s bottom lip. “Let’s stay here for a little longer.”   
  
“But—.”   
  
“You really gonna say no to a guy on his death day?”   
  
His smirk is insufferable, and Cas really shouldn’t be blamed for doing what he does next.   
  
He kisses him to wipe the expression off Dean’s face.   
  
As Dean works to undo more of Cas’s buttons in his flannel, Cas doesn’t remember a time where he thought he didn’t belong right here, in the breaths that are taken in-between their lips. 

* * *

“They’re late,” Sam says, sneaking glances out the window of the Roadhouse.   
  
“It’s heaven. You can’t be late here,” Eileen says, linking her arm with his.

“Which means they’re late on purpose.”   
  
Bobby leans back in his chair, grabbing his beer. “Let ’em have a few more minutes. They deserve it.”   
  
Sam smiles. “Heavens turned you into a softie.”   
  
“Hey, after all the pinging, longing, stolen glances, flirty remarks, and moody crap that we had to watch them pull over the years, them being together is a sweet release from the torture they put us through.”   
  
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m really happy for them. But it’s also just made them worse to deal with,” Sam says, sitting across from Bobby with a sigh. “The unspoken thing between them has become very loud and clear.”   
  
“Are you surprised?” Gabriel, who pops into heaven every once and a while after Jack brought him back from the Empty, asks. “They’ve always been attached at the hip. Now they’re attached at the...everything.”

“Don’t,” Sam’s lips pucker in disgust. “That’s my brother and my best friend you're talking about.”   
  
“At least you didn’t see them hooking up at the back of the bar,” Jo says.   
  
“I saw them in the Impala,” Kevin shutters.

Charlie raises her hand. “In the barn.”

Jody laughs as she ties a knot at the end of the black balloon. “I don’t think anywhere is safe.”   
  
“Give us a break,” Dean says as he suddenly walks into the Roadhouse with Cas. “We got a lot of time to make up for.”   
  
Cas smiles. “It’s a good thing we have an infinite amount of it.”   
  
“Thanks to you and Jack,” Dean says, putting an arm around Cas's waist.   
  
“All that time, and you still manage to be late,” Sam says wryly.   
  
Dean scratches his neck. “Sorry, we got held up.”   
  
“Doing what?” Ketch asks, waggling his brows. “Writing sonnets about green and blue eyes?”   
  
“I ain’t no writer,” Dean says in distaste, thinking of Chuck. “We got held up at the house, and on the drive over here, we were listening to a mixtape and wanted to get to the end of it.”   
  
“How was it not obvious to you when he gave you a mixtape that he loved you back, Cas?” Charlie asks with a laugh.   
  
Cas shifts uncomfortably. “I was unaware of the context of mixtapes and how you give them to people to express love.”   
  
Jo grins. “I bet all of Dean’s prayers were more revealing than any Led Zeppelin track.”   
  
“Hey, it’s my deathday. Let’s party and not talk about my love life!”   
  
“I want to know where you two finally figured things out,” Donna says, ignoring Dean’s groan.   
  
“It was at the lake,” Cas tells Donna. “Dean prayed to me on a bench,”   
  
“Oh, that’s so poetic!” Charlie exclaims. Off of everyone’s confusion, she explains, “You know, because of that whole conversation they had on a bench in the park about doubts and free will. It was in Chuck’s book.”   
  
“How do you remember that?” Sam asks.   
  
Charlie shrugs. “It was a pivotal moment of both of their character arcs.”   
  
“We’re not characters!” Dean protests.   
  
“I know, but it was a pivotal moment in your own life too,” she reasons. “So, you guys re-connecting on a bench parallels the first time you connected on Earth on one."   
  
“Long story short, we’re together,” Dean cuts in. “Everyone satisfied now?”   
  
“I’d like to hear more about the begging Dean probably did,” Claire starts to say from a booth in the corner, smirking. “But it’s your deathday, so I’ll cut you some slack.”

Dean rolls his eyes at her, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.   
  
“To Dean,” Sam says, standing up and raising a glass. “Who hates chick flick moments, but who made us all watch one starring him and Cas over the years.”   
  
Everyone raises their glasses, and Dean can’t help but smile at all these people who love him and are there to celebrate his life—or more accurately, the life that he’s just starting here.   
  
“So, you guys just living happily ever after now?” Jack asks, looking pleased with the return of events he probably saw coming.   
  
“I’d say so,” Dean smiles, leaning in and kissing Cas.   
  
“Get a room,” he hears Jo yell.   
  
Dean pulls back, shouting to her, “Get your own heaven, this one’s ours!”   
  
“You can’t claim a heaven!”   
  
“My boyfriend’s the angel who made this place. I think I can.”   
  
“You can’t pull that card every time you want something,” Jo protests.   
  
“But it’s a good card,” Dean reasons, looking back at Cas, smiling. “A really good card.”

* * *

It’s a sunny afternoon, quite the perfect day for a barbecue. Dean’s almost disappointed, as if wanting the rain so he’d have a reason to postpone the dinner with his parents.   
  
But it had been a while since he’d seen them, his mother stopped by at the end of the party, but his father was visibly missing. He knew enough was enough and couldn’t keep putting this off forever.   
  
It’s not that he didn’t want to spend time with them. But now that Dean feels so at peace—like he’s finally doing things right, he doesn’t want to hear his father say how everything he’s been doing is wrong. His dad has a skill at getting him to taint whatever made him happy—cloaking it in shame or insignificance.   
  
When Dean knocks on the door, John opens it. He stands there with crossed arms, not moving out of the house so he can look down at him on the steps.   
  
“So, you fell in love with some angel?”   
  
Wow, Dean thinks, the first sentence John said to him managed to convey both shame in Dean and make Cas sound insignificant.   
  
“Yeah,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile, but does so through gritted teeth. “I did.”   
  
“So, all of those lessons I taught you about keeping your distance from monsters—.”   
  
“Cas isn’t a monster,” Dean interrupts firmly, startling John.

Dean’s lips part, a little surprised at himself too. He would never dare backtalk his father like that on earth.

But that’s the thing, he isn’t on earth, and he’s not afraid of him anymore.   
  
John’s eyebrows snap together. “So, what, he’s worth throwing everything I raised you to be out of the window for?”   
  
“He’s worth more to me than you can ever understand,” Dean snaps.   
  
He takes a moment to breathe in and out as his father silently fumes, trying to remember the reason for showing up at his parents’ door.   
  
“Look, I don’t need your approval. I just want you to meet him.”   
  
The softness in Dean’s voice makes John’s hands reluctantly fall to his sides.   
  
“Well, we’re here for eternity, might as well make an introduction,” John mutters.   
  
Dean refrains from rolling his eyes at the lack of enthusiasm. He takes a step back, lowering his head with closed eyes.   
  
“Hey sunshine, hang up the halo and take a break from work,” Dean prays. “It’s time for dinner with my parents.”

He looks back at John, who’s staring at him like he’s crazy.   
  
“It’ll probably be a few minutes. He’s been busy working with the other angels and—.”   
  
Just then, Cas pops up beside Dean. It doesn’t startle him, but it certainly startles John, who stumbles back against the door.   
  
“Buddy, you could have walked over,” Dean whispers.   
  
Cas gives an unapologetic shrug, as scaring John was probably his intention. It makes Dean want to throttle him but kiss him all at once. Luckily, he can now do the latter anytime he wants.   
  
That thought makes him smile, easing some of the tension in his shoulders.   
  
“Cas, this is my dad, John,” Dean says, still standing between them, as if expecting one of them to charge at the other. “Dad, this is Castiel.”   
  
Silence falls between them. Dean gives Cas a look, pleading and desperate.   
  
Cas sighs, holding out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”   
  
John stares at his hand for a moment, trying to make Cas sweat it out. But Cas doesn’t even blink, his hand steadily hovering in the air as if he could wait forever.   
  
John eventually folds, grabbing Cas’s hand and shaking it.   
  
“Hopefully, you’ve heard just the good things,” John replies gruffly.   
  
John makes a move to pull his hand away, but Cas grips it firmly. There’s a flash of something dangerous in his eyes as he steps forward, looking at John like he’s a bug he could easily squash underneath his foot.   
  
“I wasn’t aware there were any good things.”   
  
For the first time ever, Dean sees his father look afraid.   
  
He should tell Cas to ease off, that they’re in heaven together, so they might as well make this work.   
  
But, instead, Dean’s lips twitch upwards.   
  
He lets himself enjoy this. He’s not used to having someone like Cas around John, someone who has no history with him and doesn’t put up with his bullshit from the get-go.   
  
Cas’s also someone who’s the exact opposite of John, who loves Dean unconditionally without terms or conditions.   
  
Dean claps his hand on Cas’s back. “Alright, Mr. Chrysler Building, you should at least eat something before you get all smitey.”   
  
Cas lets go of John’s hand, but his stare is unrelenting on him as he says, “I don’t need to eat food.”   
  
John puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get started on the burgers and leave me alone to talk to the angel?”   
  
He doesn’t like the look in his father’s eyes. The look that conveys the statement isn’t a question but a command.   
  
Dean hears the echo of the words “daddy’s blunt little instrument” in his head. Hears every “yes, sir” and sees every time he followed behind him, head lowered and submissive.   
  
This time, Dean takes a step forward, head high and eyes locked on John.

“No.”   
  
John’s hand falls from Dean’s shoulder. “Excuse me?”   
  
“I said no.”   
  
“Why? You’re afraid I’m gonna hurt him?”   
  
“Cas can fend for himself. He would be the one hurting you, not the other way around.”   
  
John’s jaw clenches. “I’ve faced plenty of supernatural beings far scarier looking than him.”   
  
“Oh yes,” Cas starts to say, stepping next to Dean, giving John that smile that’s not a smile at all. The one dean’s seen him use before telling off an enemy and ripping them to shreds. “I’ve read as much through your journal.”   
  
“Really?” John sneers. “I bet it was informative to you.”   
  
“Yes, but not for the reasons you’re probably thinking. It informed me on how bad of a father you are, maybe even worse than mine—which is saying something.”   
  
John’s face falls, and his fists start to clench at his sides.   
  
Dean doesn’t like where this is heading, stepping between them again.   
  
“Look, let’s just all take a breath and—.”   
  
“It’s okay, Dean, you can go,” Cas interrupts.   
  
Dean sighs, giving him a look. They communicate without speaking in a way that only comes from spending so much time together and talking non-verbally when they fight side by side.   
  
Cas gets the message and walks back down the house’s steps away from John as Dean follows.   
  
“Cas, I’m not going to let him tell me what to do or talk that way about you,” Dean tells him.   
  
Cas’s eyes soften. “I know, and I love you for it.” He reaches out and entwining his fingers with Dean. “But I wouldn’t mind saying a few things to him in private myself.”   
  
Dean looks at their hands, still taken aback by the feeling of the way they fit together.   
  
“Fine,” he sighs begrudgingly. “Just don’t go all ‘barn Cas’ on him.”   
  
“What's 'barn Cas’?”   
  
“It’s what I call you when you bring out the powers of heaven, flickering lights and smiting everything in sight. Even though it was really attractive, I don’t think it’s the best thing to do in this situation.”   
  
“We’re outside, and I can’t smite John because he may seem like a demon, but he’s not one,” Cas says, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “So, don’t worry about him.”   
  
“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you.”   
  
“Well, don’t,” Cas shrugs, almost petulantly.   
  
Dean rolls his eyes. “Someone’s got to because you clearly don’t.”   
  
That makes Cas smile. He leans up, brushing their lips together tenderly, leaving Dean a little bit dizzy when he pulls away.   
  
“You guys done with your lover spat over there or what?” John yells over at them.   
  
“Yes,” Cas answers, stepping away and squeezing Dean’s hand before he lets go. “I’ll be alright, Dean.”   
  
Dean isn’t so sure, but he forces a nod. “Fine, I’ll start making the burgers.”   
  
He brushes past them into the house to find Mary and wonders if he just made a mistake leaving two of the most stubborn people he’s ever met alone together. 

* * *

Once the door closes, Cas steps towards John, waiting for him to make the first move.   
  
“You don’t like me,” John states after a while.   
  
“You don’t like me either.”   
  
John huffs. “You’re smart, at least.”   
  
“Look, I know what you put Dean and Sam through,” Cas says, keeping his voice calm, but the venom in his words is hard to hide. “You made them raise each other, made Dean think he was a weapon who couldn’t do more than hunt. You put so much pressure on him to be what you wanted him to be that it took him ages to accept who he really is.”   
  
“You don’t think I don’t know any of that?” John barks. “You don’t think I can tell that he’d rather be anywhere but here right now?”   
  
“Dean wants to be here because he loves you,” Cas says, causing John’s anger to simmer a little. “So, let’s put the past behind us.”   
  
John scans Cas in disbelief, eyebrows raising. “So, you’re saying forgive and forget just like that?”   
  
“No, I’m saying I love Dean, and he wants this to work. So, I’ll try to make it work too.” Cas holds out his hand again. “Will you?”   
  
A moment of silence sits between the two of them before John grabs and shakes his hand.   
  
This time, Cas lets go, even though he’d rather pull his hand and throw him over his shoulder.   
  
Cas walks into the house, but John lingers outside. Cas looks down at him on the steps and feels a strong sense of sorrow. Not just on Dean’s behalf, but also on John’s.   
  
He’s in no way making apologies for that man. But, he does feel pity for him. John lives not comprehending who Dean entirely is because he’s stuck seeing him as the kid who carried his brother out of that burning house.   
  
But Dean is so much more than that, and despite Cas’s struggles with his self-esteem in the past and present, Cas also knows he’s more than what John sees in him. He knows he’s more than what Chuck or Naomi saw in him too.   
  
They all looked at him like something broken that came off the production line flawed, beyond fixing.   
  
But he’s not flawed. At least, not in the way they think he is.   
  
All the good and the bad he’s done has led him to become this person who has a family, who works hard to help who he can, and who loves Dean Winchester with every fiber of his being.   
  
It’s at this moment Cas realizes just how content he is. He feels a blissful sort of happiness that may have never been intended for him to experience, but he feels all the same. It isn’t a feeling John or anyone else can diminish. He won’t let them. Cas fought his way into being a part of this story. He’s not about to stop now. No matter what Chuck tried, he couldn’t erase him from the narrative. That made Cas feel a little invincible.   
  
That invincibility probably started the second he raised Dean from perdition.   
  
He never quite liked people describing pulling Dean out of hell as the first step towards rebellion and a life void of faith. If anything, it was the first step towards having true belief, which came of his own volition.

Cas’s hand on Dean’s shoulder was like a pen hitting a page, marking the beginning of something, not an end.   
  
As Cas sees Dean through the screen door, he smiles, knowing completely that he belongs in this story. 

* * *

Dean’s starting the burgers on the backyard’s grill when he sees Cas walk out of the screen door.   
  
“How did it go?” Dean asks, not seeing John following behind him.   
  
“As well as it could’ve,” Cas shrugs, stepping next to Dean. “He’s in the kitchen with Mary.”   
  
“Well...good,” Dean exhales, shifting his feet nervously. “We should be here doing this. Right? I mean, it’s what we’re supposed to do, mend fences or whatever.”   
  
Cas slings his arms around Dean’s waist, and Dean leans against him.   
  
“I think having a better relationship with your father will be a good thing.”

Dean hears the ‘but’ in his voice.   
  
“Cas, what aren’t you telling me?”   
  
He sighs, retracting his arms from around Dean to face him properly.   
  
“You spent your whole life when John was alive trying to please your father. I don’t want your afterlife to be spent doing the same.”   
  
“This isn’t about pleasing him. You know that.”   
  
“I know. He’s your father, you love him, and you want him to be a part of your life,” Cas says, smiling a bit sadly. “But, make sure before you let him into that life that he can accept having a different, smaller part in it. One that doesn’t try to make you feel like a tool he can pick up and put back down whenever he wants.”   
  
Dean nods, feeling a lump forming in his throat. While Cas’s words make him feel so much love, it also makes him realize how much he has lacked from other people.   
  
As he finishes the burgers, Mary comes out to say hello to them and help set the picnic table outside. No one mentions John or the lack of him, but his presence is heavy once he finally makes an appearance.   
  
They spend the dinner talking about what they’ve both been up to in heaven, the conversation mostly carried by Mary and Cas. Dean keeps shooting looks at his father, who only gives one or two-worded replies.   
  
Once they start clearing the table, Dean finds himself alone with John as Mary and Cas take some leftovers inside the house.   
  
The silence doesn’t last long, John squaring his shoulders where he sits on the other side of the table.   
  
“Really, him?”   
  
Dean doesn’t flinch, starting to gather some silverware. “Yes, him.”   
  
“If you lost your way a little on earth. Fine,” John sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “But you can have any girl you want here.”   
  
Dean’s head snaps up. “I don’t want anyone else. I want Cas.”   
  
John laughs hollowly, picking at some of the food left on his plate. Dean feels that familiar sting of anger start to enter his veins, making his body go rigid.   
  
“Dad, what’s going on? I thought you guys came to an understanding.”   
  
“We came to an understanding to put up with one another, but you can’t expect me just to call him ‘son’ and give him my blessing.”   
  
“I already told you, I don’t need your blessing,” Dean says thinly. “You got to understand that. I’m my own person. I don’t have to do what you say.”   
  
“No, but you should,” John insists harshly. “He may have a halo or whatever, but he’s still a monster.”   
  
Dean’s jaw clenches. “I told you not to talk about him like that.”   
  
“But he can talk to me as if I’m one?” John asks, scoffing. “That guy was acting like I ruined your life.”   
  
“You did ruin my life!”   
  
Everything around them goes silent. Dean swears that whatever loop sounds Jack has going to create, heaven’s ambiance starts malfunctioning, as he can only hear a ringing in his ears.   
  
Dean takes a few moments, unfurling his fists on the table, taking measured breaths to calm himself.   
  
“I didn’t deserve any of that shit you put on me,” Dean mutters after a while, meeting his father’s confused eyes. “I don’t regret taking care of Sammy, but you shouldn’t have felt like it’s all that gave me worth. For my birthdays, you gave me a gun or sent me on a hunt.”   
  
“You wanted all those things,” John counters.   
  
“Because you made me think it was the only life I could have,” Dean contends. “As a kid, you made me think all I was meant to be was a soldier that’s job was to keep fighting till I got myself killed.”   
  
John’s anger fades a little, processing Dean’s words and trying to make sense out of why they sound so heavy coming out of Dean’s lips.   
  
After a while, John shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”   
  
Dean smiles a bit bitterly. “If you don’t understand what’s wrong with any of that, then I don’t know what to say to you either.”   
  
He stands, and John jumps to his feet with a new urgency than before.   
  
“Dean, we’re in heaven now. Can’t we start fresh?”   
  
“I want to tell you no, that you have to earn my love. But I’m not you,” Dean says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t love people with conditions or punish them by taking my love away. I just love them.”   
  
“So, we can just forget everything that happened?”   
  
“Dad, I don’t want to be angry at you or anything anymore. I spent too much of my life angry,” Dean tells him, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice. “But that doesn’t mean I can forget it all. That was my life.”   
  
“So, what do you want to do?” John asks.   
  
“We’re going to work through it,” Dean answers simply, even though the situation is anything but simple. “It’s a good thing we have eternity to do it. I’m going to need some time, but we can try again when I’m ready. On _my_ terms.”  
  
John nods a bit curtly, but he can see guilt starting to surface on his expression.   
  
Dean sighs, knowing it’s a start.   
  
They go back into the house, and Mary stops him from leaving the kitchen once they’re done doing dishes.   
  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” she says sincerely. “I talked to him about all this before you came over. I thought he understood.”   
  
“It’s alright, mom,” he says, waving off her worry. He clears his throat, “So, did you have your mother-to-boyfriend talk in the kitchen while Dad and I were outside? Did you say they’ll be hell to pay if he ever hurts me?”   
  
“I don’t think giving him hell is in the cards here, but no, I didn’t,” Mary smiles. “I trust him. He looked after you when you guys had no one else.” 

“When we had nothing, we always had him,” Dean adds and then tosses his head back and forth. “Well, except for one time, when he was high on souls.”   
  
She pats his arm. “Better not mention that story to your dad yet.”   
  
“Good idea,” Dean grimaces.   
  
He finds Cas later sitting on the front porch, a glass of Mary’s lemonade in his hands. Dean sits on the other side of him, looking out at the perfectly green backyard his parents have that he never got to have as a kid.   
  
“How are you feeling?” Cas asks.   
  
“I talked to my dad.”   
  
“I saw that…or more like I heard it.”   
  
“You were right," Dean sighs. "It helped to tell him everything. It feels like this weight that’s been crushing me has finally been lifted.”   
  
Cas quirks his eyebrow. “But?”   
  
“But saying all that stuff makes me also feel like I got punched in the stomach a few times,” Dean chuckles lowly.   
  
“I’m sorry. I had my reservations on putting John in your heaven—.”   
  
Dean smiles. “Of course, you did.”   
  
“But Jack insisted,” Cas continues. “He knows how much family means to you. And he figured if you were able to forgive him, you’d be able to forgive your father as well.”   
  
“It’s not so much about the forgiveness as it is about the understanding. Even though Sam pissed him off, he got him. I don’t think he ever really got me, not really.”   
  
Cas sits down his glass of lemonade and nudges Dean’s shoulder. “You’re a very complex human. It took me a while to understand you too.”   
  
“Because you wanted to understand. I don’t know if he does, but I think he’s trying to want to if that makes sense.”   
  
“It does.”   
  
There are a few beats of silence before Cas voices, “Are you sure I can’t punch him?”   
  
“No,” Dean laughs and reaches for Cas’s hand that sits between them on the cement. “But I love you for wanting to.”   
  
“It’s a bit unfair. You got to beat up my neglectful father,” Cas points out, sounding a bit childish.   
  
Dean leans in closer, grazing his cheek with his lips. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”   
  
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Cas says, smirking.   
  
“You’re a smug son of a bitch. You know that?”   
  
“I do,” Cas grins.   
  
Dean leans forward, captures Cas’s lips with his.   
  
It feels like the lapping of waves, the water gentle by the time it arrives at the shoreline but determined as it makes a mark on the sand, letting it know that it will always return.   
  
Cas breaks this kiss after a few moments, “You ready to go home?”   
  
He thinks of the word home and looks around him. He thought this exact spot would be his home, at a house that his parents both share. But Dean realizes the definition of the word has shifted in meaning over the years.   
  
Home means being somewhere you feel safe, loved, and always want to come back to.   
  
As he looks at Cas, he knows that home has been at his side for a long time.   
  
“Yeah,” Dean answers, resting his forehead on Cas's, his breath coming to him easier than it ever has before. “I am.” 


End file.
